


Touched by Angels

by TheDeep



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeep/pseuds/TheDeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is one of those binding bonds - a socially accepted form of insanity. And just when everything seems to be going right, something can easily work its way into the mix. Especially when one of you is a CSI and the other is a ME. Shot down, Mac has someone needing him, and luckily, he's got two hands waiting to help him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched by Angels

"You know the only reason you act like this around me is because the word 'sexy' makes you nervous."

I scoffed in disbelief, playfully punching Mac in the arm as I looked over at him with wide eyes. He had that marvelously complementing _smartass_ smile on his face. The one that brought out the gleam of amusement in his blue-green eyes and lit up his entire face with the emotion. "Mac Taylor!" I scolded, "Stop it!"

He laughed, his eyes bright. I seriously couldn't help but smile, my cheeks flushing a soft red at the continuous comments he threw at me as we walked together along the street, my arm looped with his. Boy, I loved him like this. Of course, I loved Mac Taylor any way, any time of day, but... This? This was the  _laid-back_ Mac Taylor. The one who let all of his responsibilities as the New York Crime Lab Supervisor just fall off his shoulders for later taking care of.

This was the man I really loved. And as if he was getting the feeling that he was being watched, he looked over at me. For a moment, his clear, bright blue-green eyes met mine, and then he looked away shyly. As if my admiring him wasn't the same emotional and sexual torture he was putting me through with all of his comments and little glances.

"No, I think that particular word makes  _you_ nervous, Mac Taylor," I said finally, smiling.  _Two can play at this game, Taylor... You just wait!_

He smiled. A knowing smile. That smile that showed he knew he was being beat at his own game, but he was enjoying it. He also looked like he was starting to blush a bit. The way he avoided eye contact with me spoke a lot more than anything he could've verbally said, but he did say something anyways. He said, "Okay, okay... You win. Happy?"

I smiled even more, laughing a little. "Yes, I'm very happy," I said, looking over at him. "I'm happy because I'm with you." Now he looked over at me, his eyes meeting mine and not looking away. I smiled and playfully ran a hand through his hair. "Have I happened to tell you I loved you recently?"

Mac smiled a little. "I believe you might've..." he began, his eyes narrowing as if he was in deep thought. Neither of us could keep up the straight faces though, and we burst into a round of laughs.

I had to hold a hand over my mouth to make sure I wasn't laughing too loud and when I looked over at him again, he was smiling broadly, still chuckling a bit himself. And it was his eyes that really got me again. They were just alive with spirit and love and amusement. It was breathtaking.

For a moment, we just looked at each other, caught up in one another's eyes. It was one of those moments like in the movies. Those moments that seemed hopelessly impossible in real life. But I swear...  _Anything_ is possible with this man. This man is Mac Taylor, after all...

And then gunshots rang in the air. First one, then two. By the time I hear the second one and my body starts to react, he's already pushing me away from the seeming source of the sound with a hand on my shoulder. Everything was in slow motion from the time I felt his hand on my shoulder...

I let myself give to the pressure he put on my shoulder, but I took about three steps away from him at a decent jog and turned back to make sure he was following. Instead what I saw was something I never wanted to see.

At that moment, a third gunshot pierces the air around my ears loudly, and, before I know it, everything is back to real speed.

"Mac! Mac!" I'm screaming his name before I fully realize why. And then I'm looking down at my hands, pressed against his shoulder. It's warm... Warm like it shouldn't be. At least... Not like the usual warmth I feel when I stand beside him, his hand on my arm. This is a sticky warm... A warm like the warm you only feel when a bullet or some other weapon tore through all peace and order in your life.

"Mac! Stay with me!" I'm yelling at him even as I feel warm tears prick at my eyes. "Mac, look at me! Look at me, Mac! Look at me!"

It's not even a request. My tone is so demanding and harsh, like I'm not giving him a choice. I'm hardly aware of the three people standing over me as I sit there beside the man I had come to feel willing to do anything for. And here he was... Bleeding right in front of my eyes, looking like fighting it was taxing him more than it should've.

He was coughing, fighting for air, and I was desperately trying to keep pressure over his injury, using one hand to pull that off while my other rested against his cheek, making him look me in the eyes.

Somewhere, at the edge of my hearing, I listen to someone yelling into their phone. It sounded something like,  _"A man! ... Yeah, a man's been shot! Send an ambulance quick!"_

 _Shot? Who?_ I'm barely thinking straight. "Mac, look at me!" I plead again. Sirens are already droning gloomily around us.

"Out of the way!" It's a barked order from an officer. He is soon kneeling with me at the side of my fallen companion. "Miss? Miss?"

He has to say it twice before I realize he's addressing me. I look up with desperate eyes, almost accusingly looking at him as if he was distracting me on a great mission. In a way, he was.

"Miss, are you okay?" His voice is so calm that I think it might make me sick. How could he be so calm like this? How?

"I'm-I'm fine! It's just... He's... He's  _shot!_ He's hit, he's hit!"

The officer laid a hand on my arm as I turned my attention back to those blue-green eyes. "Mac... Don't you dare give up on me, Mac! Stay with me!"

"Alright, alright... What's his name? What's your name?"

I used my free hand to push a strand of my hair back in its place behind my ear, not even recognizing that his blood was on it just as it was my other. "Mac... Mac Taylor," I stumbled, my worried eyes not leaving the gunshot wound that was giving me and him this problem, " _Detective_ Mac Taylor... We... He wasn't even..." I can't finish the sentence, so I just end up shaking my head helplessly. "And Peyton... Peyton Driscoll," I add without thinking. I had already forgotten he'd asked for my name.

He was quickly replaced by two medics and I pulled my hands back to let them work although I refused to leave his side.

"Alright, out of the way! Get him in there!" It was so crisp and clean of an order, and I followed, taking one of his hands in mine as they started work immediately after they had him in the back of the ambulance.

"Stay with me, baby... Stay with me..."

**ooOOoo**

_What-the-hell?_ It surprised me. The question formed easily in my mind and I heard it like I'd really spoken it.

 _"Detective Taylor! Detective?"_ The voice seemed like it was miles down a tunnel from me, and for a moment, my mind fancied the image of me really standing in a tunnel that was dimly lit with one of those terribly confused expressions troubling my eyes.

And then something between an absolutely agonizing wave of pain and the Devil's own wave at me hit me and I remotely heard a low groan escape my interlocked teeth.

Then I got a glimpse at what was really happening around me. Peyton's brown locks dangled across her neck and her eyes searched me over. She was yelling something... Over and over again... And I finally made out her grip on my hand.

 _"Mac, stay with me! Stay with me, baby! Please!"_ I squeezed my eyes shut again as I listened to her far-off sounding words. What rang in my ears loudly was my own ragged breathing, and somewhere in my vacant mind, I fought for a good, clear breath of that oh, so precious oxygen. Something kept me fighting.

And the Devil kept knocking. I could see it clearly.  _Too clearly._

The medic that kept trying to keep my focus wasn't winning to many fights in this war. Not that I was purposely giving him the hand and telling him to just give up. But... something about doing that was just growling a low, wicked command for me to do it or I'd regret it.

_"Mac."_

I sat up with a start, my eyes flying wide open. My right shoulder screamed in protest and my left hand shot as fast as a bullet to the pained area. I sucked in the air around me like it was a drug I shouldn't be taking, and my wide-open eyes scanned over my new surroundings with confusion.  _Where am I?_

"Mac."

The voice was patient... And... My eyes landed on sun-touched red locks. Moving my gaze along further, and her calm gaze watched me, waiting for me to respond with anything besides confusion.

"Claire?" The name was like a forbidden sweetness as it rolled neatly off my tongue. God, I hadn't heard that sound in too long. "Claire... What happened?"

She scoffed, waving a hand at me like she always did when she was amusingly fed-up with me and my "boyish-ness." "Please, Mac Taylor... You are a detective. Figure it out."

I nearly recoiled at the statement. It sounded cold and heartless coming from her - as if it was coming from a suspect. If she were a suspect, then I wouldn't have been surprised.

Although... I picked up on the hint in her tone, and I slowly withdrew my hand from my shoulder. She stood and walked over slowly, almost as if she couldn't believe it anymore than I could. She carefully slid a hand underneath the collar of my shirt, and when she rested her hand against my shoulder, palm flat, it felt like a fire was burning me.

I sucked in a breath harshly at the unexpected agony. "Baby... You were shot."

It all made sense in that instant, and she quickly pulled her hand away from me. I was still trying to catch my breath when she knelt in front of me, framing my face with both of her hands. "Mac... You have to go back."

For a moment, my eyes searched hers in incomprehension of the statement and its order. "What?"

"Peyton," she told me with a serious cloud falling across her features, "She needs you, Mac.  _You need her._ "

Realization hit me like a hammer and she pulled her hands away from me again, standing. She took a few steps back, leaving me sitting there to wonder what this all meant. This was a whole new level of confused. I shook my head, trying to apply logic to the events unfolding around me.

A different touch got my attention this time. A hand against my neck which gently rolled the almost forgotten small chain around my neck.

I idly rolled the metallic silver-toned chain between my index finger and thumb for a moment before looking up to place a name to the familiar touch.

What I saw was something I was unprepared for.

A serious, experience-aged gaze locked with mine. Silence met my slightly startled reaction and I was aware of Claire standing silently off to the side, not part of the conversation I was apparently supposed to start.

A reassuring squeeze of my shoulder gave me the word I was looking for. "Sir." It was a respectful greeting. One I hadn't had the pleasure of addressing the man I did now for too long. Back in Chicago... In the "good old days."

"A fine Marine they made out of you, Son." That reassuring squeeze was now a pat on my back and I finally stood, my father's hand on my arm as I looked around uncertainly, unsure of my legs' ability to hold me upright in this upside-down situation. I looked back to him, this time calmly.

Something made sense now.  _Everything_ about this finally made sense.

"Peyton?" It was a question of how to get back to her. I knew what I needed to do.

"Waiting for you." I turned my gaze back over to Claire, and she smiled softly when I did. "Go on, sweetheart. You need this."

I smiled a bit, thumbing at the chain again. "Never too far..." I murmured. It wasn't even a question. More so a heart-felt realization.

My father squeezed my shoulder again, and I looked back at him. "Go on then, Marine. She's waiting."

**ooOOoo**

I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there, holding his hand in both of mine when I finally felt a grip on my hand that was different from before... It was stronger.

I looked firstly at my hands, wanting to make sure I wasn't imagining things, and then I slowly raised my eyes and when they locked with those familiar blue-green eyes, so full of confidence, even now, I felt robbed of my breath and I sucked in a new one quickly. "Oh, God... Mac... Hey... Hey." I stumbled so much that I sounded like a fool to myself as I reached out a hand and gently wound my fingers loosely through his hair.

A small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth as he closed his eyes momentarily before looking back at me. "Hey." It sounded a little rough, but I felt like it was the best thing I'd heard all day and I felt myself smiling.

"You're not supposed to scare me like that, Mac Taylor," I scold him, my voice light with relief. "I thought I'd lost you."

A breath of a laugh from him sounded almost like a snort of disbelief at my words and, although he winced at the action, he smiled slightly when he looked over at me again, "You never lost me," he said, taking my free hand with his as he carefully guided me to the thin chain I'd noticed around his neck earlier. Carefully pulling the end of the chain out from under the covering of his clothing and he showed me the small, intricately carved cross at the bottom.

I looked back at him with a small, soft smile and tears forming in my eyes and he simply smiled a bit and nodded, wrapping my hand over the medallion and then his hand around mine before saying, "Faith, sweetheart. Have faith."


End file.
